


When In Doubt, Get A Roommate Who Knows How To Cook

by Cosmicserenity



Series: Cannibalism vs Justice: but make it friendly and college-related [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bromance, Criminal justice student Jack, Established Friendship, Gen, Hannibal Cooks, Hannibal Lecter is bad at humor, I know, Just two bros being homies, Like, Pre-med student hannibal, Roommates, Slightly awkward Hannibal, Why?, again though, and then go to sleep, astronomically bad, because what else is new, because you would be too if you went to school in a totally different country, but guess what, cause i need that, i cannot stress how platonic this is enough, i need a homie that'll cook for me too, its not people, jack is Stressed, sophomores, study dante, these two are just homies, they eat dinner together, what a shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmicserenity/pseuds/Cosmicserenity
Summary: "What if I told you that the Steak au Poivre you ate earlier tonight.. is made of human flesh?"Jack Crawford's face paled as he stopped in his tracks, gripping the corner of the wall that lead to the short apartment hallway and gazing back at his roommate with a shaky stare."That joke sucks ass, Hannibal.""What? I thought it was funny!"--I'm like 11 eps into Hannibal right now and I KNOW this 'friendship' between Jack Crawford and Hannibal Lecter isn't gonna work out in the end, so I wrote a short little fic where the two of them are just friends/roommates in college and hang out over dinner one night in their two-bit apartment, with Jack teaching the Han-man how to make actually funny jokes for once.A: Because I personally have no friends, and B: Because I really need the serotonin.
Relationships: Jack Crawford & Hannibal Lecter
Series: Cannibalism vs Justice: but make it friendly and college-related [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047718
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	When In Doubt, Get A Roommate Who Knows How To Cook

As he stepped off of the public bus with his bookbag in hand and his feet crunching against the grey sidewalk slush that led back towards his apartment building, Jack Crawford found that he had never wanted to go to sleep so badly in his life.

When he had applied for college in the comforts of his home two years ago, he thought it would be a breeze. Hell, easier than a breeze- more like the stale air in his grandmother’s apartment building. He had even made a plan for it one night: he’d live in an apartment with a friend, join a few clubs, do a bit of boring schoolwork and then get his degree in Criminal Justice in a snap.

Not be required to write a 5 page essay on Dante Alighieri, submit a thesis on persuasive speaking and do 3 hours worth of statistics equations all before the night was over.

Not having to do work was one of the key reasons why he had gone to a state college instead of Johns Hopkins, the elite private school that stood a mere 45 minutes away from his hometown, in the first place. He didn’t want to learn about things that didn’t have to do with working in the FBI, or fighting with his comrades in an unknown country for a cause that he believed in. In hindsight, he chastised himself for having such a naive view of what his college life would be like, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling infinitely frustrated about it either way.

Jack mumbled a range of vulgar profanities as he walked in the front door with a glare of a man whose dog had just been killed, the gentle and citrus scent of the apartment lobby doing nothing to ease his mood, and groaned when he saw the ‘Out Of Order :D’ sign that had been on the elevator for the past two and a half weeks still hanging on the steel walls. Great, so now he had to walk up 7 sets of stairs to get to his apartment, too. Well wasn’t that just hunky dory?

After seconds that passed like hours and minutes that passed like days, Jack finally made his way to the door ironically labeled 777 and stuck his key in the lock, breathing a reluctant sigh of relief as the door turned and falling into a familiar sense of safety he had left behind when he went to his first class earlier that day. The poignant smell of pepper and wine seemed to slam into his senses as he walked in the door, and as he hung his coat up on the rack and let his bag fall to the floor, he felt his shoulders loosen and his muscles relax for the first time in hours.

“I’m here.”

Normally, Jack hated having roommates. They were loud, and rambunctious, and always reminded him of his three older sisters who spared no expense to bother him every time he breathed back when he was at home.

Hannibal Lecter was an exception.

A handsome international student from Lithuania with the brains of a madman, Hannibal had made the exact opposite choice of Jack, and attended Johns Hopkins specifically _for_ the difficult classes. The 22 year old was in America with the intent of going into the medical field, aiming to become an emergency surgeon with a double major in psychology, and instantly became a hit with his classmates for his gentle demeanor and metaphorical thinking. (Jack knew this only because of the amount of eager men and women that Hannibal would have over to their apartment for ‘study sessions’. Hannibal actually wanted to learn. The guests did _not_.)

But over the 3 and a half months the men had been living together in that small, two-bedroom apartment, Jack realized that he didn’t like having Hannibal as a roommate because he was smart, or handsome, or talented. Jack liked Hannibal because holy _shit-_ did that man know how to cook.

When the two of them got comfortable enough around each other to pool their money together for the apartment they shared, their combined ‘food budget’ amounted up to around 150 dollars a week after deducting rent and other fees. If Jack was in charge of it, that money would be wiped clean 3 days into the week, but Hannibal knew how to make that money stretch- and he knew how to cook with the ingredients he bought with such an ease it felt like he was doing second-grade addition.

Coq au Vin one day with reduced-price chicken breast and cheap red wine, Croque Madame the next day using damn-near expired ham and definitely stale bread, the point was that Hannibal made something out of nothing, and every day Jack came home, there was a new and exotic dish on the table waiting for him. It was one of Hannibal’s greatest traits, and for Jack, the feeling of having a warm cooked meal every day was almost as good as the thought of not having to write that three paged essay.

Almost.

“Ah, Jack! You are back early!” Hannibal said from the tiny kitchen they shared, his accent thick and his voice heavy. As he turned around to face his toiling roommate, his apron stained with flour and wine stains, Jack checked his watch. 

“Since when was coming back at 8pm early?” He asked, taking his sneakers off by the shoe rack.

“Since you routinely started coming in at 9.”

Jack paused before nodding in defeat. “Fair.”

“Sit, sit!” Hannibal gestured to the table that sat in the middle of their combined dining/living room with an excited beam Jack didn’t quite know the meaning of. It was _his_ idea to buy a table in the first place, calling it ‘integral to a household’, so it sat three inches apart from the television and a few feet away from the grey beanbag chairs they had bought because they didn’t feel like hauling in a sofa. 

“The course I have prepared is nearly finalized, I simply need to complete the plating.”

“I’m a college sophomore, not Gordon Ramsay.” Jack shrugged, sitting at the table and drumming his fingers against the surface. “Do you really have to make it look pretty?”

“Beauty is an extension of one’s self, pure and indelible. I must replicate our beauty onto the dishes we consume, so that we are reminded of our innermost selves.” Hannibal replied, his head tilted downwards as he meticulously poured some sauce on their dollar-store plates.

“I…” Jack didn’t know how to properly say that he had no clue what his roommate was talking about, so he just nodded and shook his head like Hannibal had said something life-changing. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess there’s no reason for me to argue.”

Hannibal looked up at him and smiled. “No, there is not.”

The moments ticked by, and Jack and his roommate made lighthearted conversation on the day’s events until Hannibal came around the kitchen counter balancing two plates full of fancy looking food and two glasses of cheap wine on his hands and arms. Jack thanked God that Hannibal wasn’t too uptight about handing him drinks as a minor, especially today. If he could help it, he wanted to get as wine-drunk as possible by the time the night was over.

“And what am I going to be eating?” Jack whistled as Hannibal set the plate down in front of him, only really recognizing the cooked flank steak they had bought on sale and the arugula greens he once had trouble pronouncing the name of before Hannibal corrected him. (Who names a green Selvatica, anyway?)

“Steak Au Poivre, mixed green salad with rhubarb and blackberry, and a cabernet sauvignon garlic sauce atop a russet mash.”

_That was… a hella convoluted way to say ‘steak and mashed potatoes’._

“Nice.” Jack responded absently, staring down at his plate and taking a sip of the glass of the wine. He recognized it was the cheap sangria they had bought on a late night run to the gas station earlier that week, mainly because of it’s bitter taste and faint traces of artificial peach flavoring, but hey- for now, wine was wine.

“See? And you didn’t see the point in plating.’

Hell, Jack still couldn’t see the point in plating- he was so damn hungry that he could have eaten the dinner in front of him out of a boot if he had to. But, if it made his friend happy to know that Jack had taken an interest in his culinary artistry, then he couldn’t go disappointing him now. 

“It looks great, Hannibal. I love what you did with the-” Jack waved his fork around the mashed potatoes.

“-Russet mash?” His roommate answered. 

“Yes! It all looks so good that I’m quite frankly terrified to eat it.”

Yeah right. He was ready and willing to fuck that plate up the minute the formalities were out of the way. Still, though, the white lie still made his roommate’s face brighten up- so what was the harm in it?

“Oh, there’s no need to be afraid to eat it, Jack! Though I do so appreciate the compliment.” Hannibal said, setting his own food on the table with a grin that screamed excitement. “Please, eat.”

“You don’t want to take the first bite?” Jack eyed Hannibal curiously as he moved towards the bluetooth speaker that sat on the coffee table.

“No, no. I want to arrange the proper musical selection beforehand.” He scrolled through his phone quietly, deep in thought as he looked at the selection choices on Spotify. “Miles Davis or Bruno Philippe?”

Jack had already put a forkful of food in his mouth and was too focused on the godsend piece of steak to really think about the question, so all he said was “Up to you” before falling right back into the trance his first bite had put him in.

What type of pepper was coating this steak? And why was it so damn tender? It was like he was chewing a deliciously seasoned piece of heaven with each bite, the meat melding with the wine sauce that had dripped down from the potatoes in a way that could only be described as a flavor profile so perfect and complex it outmatched any other meals Jack ever had in his life. The tangy crunch from the mixed salad gave his second bite a texture that Jack didn’t even know he needed to feel on his taste buds, and the creamy consistency of the potatoes tied everything together and gave his third bite a slightly sweet aftertaste that complimented the harsh, plum taste of cheap 6 dollar sangria wine. 

Accompanied by the soothing sounds of Antonin Dvorak’s Concerto no2- it seemed as though Hannibal had chosen to go the classical route this time around- Jack altogether felt like he was a king, which was quite a tall statement from a man who had considered just saying ‘fuck it’ and dropping out of college about 15 minutes ago.

With a soft grunt, Hannibal sat on the other side of the table and began to eat at his own plate, and Jack felt a tad bit brutish for not engaging in conversation as the two men ate together. Dabbing at his mouth with a napkin and setting his plate aside, something that he really didn’t want to do, Jack decided to spark up a topic from his mental roster of icebreakers and learn more about the man in front of him.

“So, how were your classes today? I hardly hear about how the ‘smartest kid in Johns Hopkins’ manages to survive his daily assignments.”

“I am hardly the smartest, Jack- though I do appreciate the compliment.” Hannibal replied with a smile Jack didn’t really believe. “And it went… well.”

“Why the pause?”

“Oh, well, there was a bit of a funny incident in my biology lab.” Hannibal snorted at the thought of it, and Jack tilted his head in interest. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“I don't see why not, especially if it can make _the_ Hannibal Lecter snort at the table.”

Hannibal stiffened in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck, acting like his friend’s tease was more of a mini-lecture, and Jack regretted making him feel uncomfortable the minute he noticed that he did. “I apologize, that was quite unbecoming.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It lets me know you’ve got a sense of humor.” He quickly clarified.

Honestly, it was more of a blessing than a curse to see Hannibal do something that wasn’t ‘perfect’, considering that Jack had felt like he was in the presence of a God for most of the time they had been living together. And no, not in a good way.

“I most certainly do.” Hannibal set his utensils down on his plate and scooted closer to the table, acting like he was preparing to tell the greatest secret he’d ever been told in his life, and Jack was more than ready to hear it.

“There’s a bit of a… ditzy girl in my lab. She usually parades around, flaunts her parents wealth- behaviors typically found in a girl of her caliber.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, _yes_.” Hannibal answered in a purr, and went back to his story. “Well, today, we were all in charge of the dissection of a cow heart. The teacher told us to cut the pulmonary artery, and guess what she did?”

“Throw up on the heart?” Jack chuckled at the visual.

“Even worse.” Hannibal laughed. “She cut the superior vena cava!”

There weren’t any crickets in their apartment, but in that moment there should have been- because the room was so dry it damn near evaporated their wine. Jack had the feeling that even if he _did_ know what the difference was between a pulmonary artery and a superior something-or-other, the joke would have still fallen on it’s ass, and that only made the air become drier than it was before.

“Hannibal, you’ve proven to be a great roommate over these few months, but that had to have been the worst joke I’ve ever heard in my 19 year old life.” He said finally, getting up to refill his glass of wine.

“...It wasn’t even a little funny?” Hannibal’s voice trailed into the kitchen behind him.

“I feel like any energy I got from being in this room just got zapped out of me.”

“Oh no.”

“Listening to that joke just aged me 20 years.”

“Oh _no_.”

“That’s like every single dad joke, but worse.” Jack sat back down in his chair, setting the still half-full bottle of wine on the table and taking a gulp of what he had poured in his glass. “Like, I can’t even laugh at how bad it is.”

“Maybe it simply didn’t suit your tastes.” Hannibal proposed, leaning back in his seat with a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

“Did it suit _yours_?”

“...Not necessarily.” He admitted.

Jack chuckled at that, to his friend’s slight embarrassment, and took another bite of his food before continuing. 

“You know what? Let’s just try the whole thing again.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and took the final bite of his food. “Try what again?”

“Making jokes!” Jack swirled his wine around in its glass. “You’re already a hit with your classmates now, once you learn comedic timing, I’m sure you’ll be irresistible to every person who walks your way.”

“I’m not one for comedy, Jack.” Hannibal replied, though the beginnings of a smile were beginning to twitch on the corners of his mouth. “As you so callously chose to mention- and ridicule me for, might I add.”

“Me? Ridicule? Never.” Jack drawled sarcastically.

“Saying the word ‘never’ instead of ‘no’ is one of the telltale signs of a lie, as I’m sure you’re aware.” 

“I was as aware of that as you were of your comedic capabilities.”

Hannibal chuckled at that, and Jack joined in. “If we weren’t smiling so hard, I’d be offended.”

“That’s because it’s all a joke, Hannibal.”

“Alright, fine.” Hannibal set his napkin down on his plate and ran a hand through his hair, still smiling as Jack took another drink from his glass. “I will let you teach me how to joke, if that is what you are implying- over dessert. Your plate?”

“Ah, no- I’d feel bad making you put my stuff in the sink for me.” Jack tried to argue, but he knew it was pointless. Ever since they had started eating together, Hannibal made a point to take care of everything relating to the meal itself. A ‘sign of appreciation’ for Jack’s company, he called it. He still didn’t know why Hannibal felt like Jack wasn’t supposed to enjoy being his friend, even after all this time.

After rescinding his argument, Jack watched Hannibal take the dishes and put them in the sink, returning promptly with two jars of pink-colored mousse and two spoons to go along with them, and nod to the beanbag chairs. “I’ve prepared a more relaxed dessert for the two of us. Would you care to join me in the living room?”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” 

“Yes. Was it to your liking?”

Jack chuckled as he took the short trip to the ‘living room’- in other words, two steps- and slumped down on one of the beanbags. “Let’s just say that you’re a faster learner than I thought.”

~~

At least Jack now knew that Hannibal was far from perfect, because out of the 3 hours the men had spent talking about anything and trying their hardest to exchange jokes, the man had probably made Jack laugh three times. Worst part was, all three laughs were not only at how bad the jokes Hannibal told were, but were also induced by the combined total of seven full glasses of wine the men had poured for each other.

“No one laughs at knock-knock jokes any more, Hannibal!”

“I do! They’re a classic source of entertainment!” Hannibal objected, lifting his finger in the air as if he was making an objection in a courtroom.

“That just means you have the sense of humor of an 85 year old!”

“I have been told that I’m mature for my age…”

“Are you trying to twist that into a compliment?”

“Should I not?”

Jack shook his head. “Not in this instance, no!” 

“So, allow me to repeat what I’ve learned in the--” Hannibal squinted and checked the multicolored wall clock across from them. “- _Three hours and thirty-six minutes_ we’ve been discussing this topic.”

“Shoot.” 

“1:-”

“Ah shit, he’s got a list.” Jack teased.

Hannibal laughed, finishing what would be his fourth full glass of wine and going back to his train of thought. “1: All jokes I find on laffy-taffy wrappers cannot be used in daily conversation.”

“No.”

“2: Jokes that are only amusing to a particular group of people are entirely impermissible when one is not surrounded by said group of people.”

“Yes.”

“3: Knock-Knock Jokes are flat out intolerable.”

“To me, yes. To everyone else, sort of.”

“That is not a conclusive answer, Jack.”

“It’s close enough- plus, some people like the whole 'dorky' shtick!”

Hannibal groaned dramatically, resting his head on the wall with a betraying smile on his face.

“It may be impossible for me to make a joke that'll fit your expectations then, Jack. My comedic range is extremely limited, you know- those three things are the only types of jokes I know how to _make_."

“Well I’ll tell you what-” Jack stood up from his beanbag chair, patting Hannibal on the shoulder as he collected his glass and his now emptied mason jar or strawberry mousse. “-we’ll get it one day, bud.”

Hannibal seemed to look shocked at Jack calling him ‘bud’, like he still wasn’t used to having a friend yet, but Jack was too drunk and too focused on walking back to his bedroom to honestly pay attention to it.

“Have you grown tired of teaching me how to joke already?”

“No- but if I don’t finish these assignments by 7am tomorrow, the only joke here is gonna be my damn report card.” Jack rubbed his face with his hand and set the rest of his dishes in the sink. Normally, he would have felt guilty about it, but according to the chore list they had made on top of the refrigerator back when they had first moved in, it was Hannibal's day to do dishes. Thank god, because Jack didn't know if he'd have the energy to wash dishes and do homework before he crashed into a wine-drunk coma.

“I could help you.” Hannibal offered, watching as Jack walked towards his bedroom.

“You help me enough, man. I appreciate what you do as it is- I can handle this much by myself.”

Jack was fairly certain that he could not handle that much by himself, as a matter of fact, he was already calculating the classes that he would get C-'s in, but he didn't want to pressure Hannibal into helping him. The food and the conversation was one thing- but he still had his pride, and getting too much help was never a good thing. Until he did something to tilt the scales aside from be good company for his roommate and do the dishes every now and again, he’d have to remember to keep his problems at bay. He could, and would, be able to handle it himself. (Just not well.)

Hannibal didn't look entirely convinced by Jack's statement, but he let the subject drop and stretched in his chair. “If you say so.”

As Jack walked off, his head focused on everything as a way to stop him from falling asleep mid-walk, he heard Hannibal’s voice come from behind him.

"What if I told you that the Steak au Poivre you ate earlier tonight.. is made of human flesh?"

Jack Crawford's face paled as he stopped in his tracks, gripping the corner of the wall that lead to the short apartment hallway and gazing back at his roommate with a shaky stare.

"That joke sucks _ass_ , Hannibal."

There was a gasp from the living room.

" _What_? I thought it was funny!"

“It was very much not. Try again next time.”

Hannibal muttered something that Jack couldn't hear, but either way, he was glad his back was turned as he took the last few steps to his room- because even though the joke was far from funny, he was still laughing either way.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like the most off-character thing for Hannibal to have done in this entire fic is not put the bottle of wine on the table with the rest of the food so that Jack didn't have to get up to refill his glass.
> 
> That and-you know- be an awkward gifted kid who just likes to cook for his roommate instead of a serial killer who eats people for funsies.


End file.
